


The Opposition of Fear

by Firenza



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon Ace Character, Fearpocolypse, Libraries, M/M, One revolution at a time, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Saving the World, Sort Of, theyre friends and there’s nothing you can do about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24483043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firenza/pseuds/Firenza
Summary: “Is this going to work?” Martin’s voice holds nothing but hope. Jon still doesn’t understand how he can still be so optimistic after everything, but he loves that about him. He places his hand over Jon’s burned one on top of the guardrail and squeezes gently. The look Martin gives him is so fond, Jon feels his chest tighten like it’s the first time he’s looked at him like that.Jon leans against him, letting Martin’s unending warmth seep into his weary bones. “It better,” he whispers. “I don’t know what will happen if it doesn’t.”
Relationships: Jonmartin - Relationship
Comments: 15
Kudos: 107





	The Opposition of Fear

**Author's Note:**

> AO3 won’t let me properly tag jonmartin but I really want to post this so here it is anyway.

Jon takes a deep breath, letting the putrid air of the apocalypse fill his lungs. It didn’t bother him anymore. He’d long since gotten used to the smell of fear and death on the breeze. 

“Is this going to work?” Martin’s voice holds nothing but hope. Jon still doesn’t understand how he can still be so optimistic after everything, but he loves that about him. He places his hand over Jon’s burned one on top of the guardrail and squeezes gently. The look Martin gives him is so fond, Jon feels his chest tighten like it’s the first time he’s looked at him like that. 

Jon leans against him, letting Martin’s unending warmth seep into his weary bones. “It better,” he whispers. “I don’t know what will happen if it doesn’t.”

Georgie steps out onto the balcony behind them, shutting the door with a soft thud. The Admiral darts from beneath her feet and curls around Jon’s ankle. Jon tears himself away from Martin to bend down and stroke the cat. “We’re all ready,” Georgie says. “Are you?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Jon offers her a tired smile. 

Her lips tick upwards in response. “It’s strange to think that only a few years ago I asked if you were trying to save the world and now here you are, about to do just that.”

“It’s the least I can do after ending it.”

She hesitates for a moment before tugging him into a gentle hug, as if he’ll break if she holds him any tighter. She pulls away after a heartbeat and squeezes his shoulder. “Good luck, Jon. You’ve got this.”

“I rather hope so.” He nods at her and watches as she retreats. The Admiral headbutts his ankle before following Georgie back into the tower.

Jon casts his eyes across the wasteland before him. So much death and destruction because of him. So much fear and pain and suffering, and he just drinks it all in. It feels good. He knows it shouldn’t, but that doesn’t change the truth. It took him a long time to accept that. 

He takes another breath, waiting for the signal from below. 

A cool breeze whips past them. Martin shivers, tucking himself further into his tattered jacket. It’s warmer closer to the ground, that part of the world still works the same somehow. Jon considers for a moment asking Martin to join the girls. He decides against it for entirely selfish reasons. He doesn’t want to be alone if this goes wrong. He doesn’t want to die alone. Maybe that’s too selfish, asking Martin to watch him as he goes through what is bound to be the most painful experience of his life. He can’t imagine doing it without him though. 

He poses the option anyway. He can’t force him to stay, no matter how much he wants him to. Martin looks at him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever.” Softly, Martin raises Jon’s scorched hand to his lips to press a soft kiss to the inside of his wrist. Jon cups his face, brushing away a fallen eyelash. He doesn’t bother to try and hide the blush creeping across his face. 

“Martin… If this doesn’t-”

Martin cuts him off with a peck to his lips. “Don’t think like that.” He rests his forehead against Jon’s. “You can’t think like that. It’s going to work. It has to.” Martin whispers it as if he’s trying to convince himself. 

Jon nods. “Yes. Yes, you’re right.”

“I usually am.” 

Jon chuckles and rolls his eyes. “I love you,” he says and kisses him again. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you too.” Tears form at the corners of Martin’s eyes. Jon can feel his fear, mixing with his own in a cacophony of terror. He brushes a thumb underneath his eye.

The moment is cut short as a horrible noise echoes up from the ground below, a mix of a wolf’s howl and a lion’s roar. The signal. Martin gives his hand one last squeeze.

Right then. They’re really doing this, Jon turns away from Martin, gripping the guardrail tightly to ground himself. 

It starts small. Miles away, he hears Martin gasp at the intrusion. His Knowledge washes over Daisy, then Basira, then Georgie, then even Melanie. It spreads to the domains bordering the Panopticon, to the places in between. It spreads to the edges of the not-so-new world, Opening everyone’s eyes to the truth.

They had realized not too long ago that there was a common theme between the domains. Instead of using monsters to torment it’s victims, the avatars in control created areas where they would attack each other. Their victims create an endless cycle of fear to unwittingly feed the gods that kept them alive. The theory was: break the cycle by showing them the truth of what they feared, and they could fight back against their oppressors. Like how he showed other Avatars the pain they had inflicted onto their victims to smite them, he pushed this knowledge into their heads. He allowed them to open their eyes and see the truth. 

And it seemed to be working.

In the Slaughter’s domains, the soldiers look across the battlefield and, for the first time, see who they’re fighting. Scared, bloodied faces look back at them, reflecting their own emotions. One soldier throws her weapon down in protest. Then another. And another. Until their leaders are left with two furious, exhausted armies who aren’t willing to fight each other anymore. 

In the Buried’s domains, one worm meets another and instead of seeing each other as a threat, they see an opportunity. If they work together, they can dig faster. One by one they join together, pushing up against the suffocating dirt. The ground presses against them, but it only slows their continuing ascent. 

In the Lonely’s domains, the fog dissipates as strangers begin to find each other. The domains twist and contort themselves to separate them, but the bonds created hold fast. 

In domains of the Web, they grab ahold of the strings binding them. In domains of the Stranger, they remember who they are. In domains of the Hunt, they stand their ground. 

At the top of the Panopticon, Jon holds tight to the guardrail. The Eye does not approve of his actions, but he could care less. It tries to make his concentration falter by inflicting an excruciating headache, but he doesn’t let it win, secure in the Knowledge that it won’t kill hi. No matter how much pain it inflicts. Miles away, Martin holds tight to his shoulder as the struggles, battles, losses, and _wins_ across the world that he had once forsaken pour from his mouth. 

Tears stream down his face, his mouth stretched wide in a smile as, across the world, people fight back. Months pass in a matter of seconds as the world resists against those who existed to make their lives hardship. 

His vision begins to wane as more and more of the Beholding’s eyes shut. He’s losing sight of the battles, but he knows- deep in his gut- that they’re being won. Maybe not at first, maybe not quickly, but won nonetheless. 

There is still fear, there will always be fear, but it’s less now. When people take a stand they are brave and they inspire others to do the same. When people fight for justice and freedom, they are the hope for those around them. 

Wars in the Slaughter end. Exits in the Spiral’s mazes are found. Cures in the Corruption are discovered. One by one, the Entities fall and the Ceaseless Watcher can do nothing but drink it all in. No longer feeding on the fear created by those around them, but weakening as it takes in the hope and joy of battles won. Jon feels their hope draining him of his energy. He’d lived off their fear for so long that the absence of so much of it is like being starved.

Jon can feel his grip on the guardrail loosening as he slowly comes back to himself, more human than he’s been in years. When he opens his eyes, Martin is staring back at him with wonder and pride and so much love it makes Jon’s heart ache. 

Below their feet, the Panopticon shudders and begins to crumble away. Jon has half a thought to rush to the stairs to escape, but he’s not going to last that long. He tries to tell Martin to run, to save himself, but the words get caught in his throat. 

A wave of exhaustion washes over Jon and he stumbles. Martin grabs a hold of him, tucking him into his chest. Jon grips the back of his shirt, suddenly terrified at the knowledge of what’s happening to him. He doesn’t want to die. He wants to live out the rest of his life with Martin in a secluded cottage somewhere far away from any fear and danger. Somewhere where the biggest problem is what they’re going to have for dinner or how they’ll pay to keep the lights on. Jon presses his face into Martin’s shoulder, crying for the future they will never get to have. 

Martin holds him tight as the last of the eyes blink shut and the world around them shifts. 

* * *

Jon pulls his ratty jacket closer around his body. Silently, he curses himself for not buying himself another when he had the money last week. The zipper had stopped working months ago and he was lucky if it would last him until the end of winter. But it was once his father’s and any thoughts he’d once had about throwing it away were drowned by the idea of losing the last bit of him he had. Not that he’d had much of him in the first place. 

The winds blowing down the crowded London street are bone chilling. Jon makes a mental note to buy a new coat the next time he can. He doesn’t have to get rid of the one he’s currently wearing, just has to find something that won’t let him freeze to death. 

He pushes open the doors to the London Library, pausing for half a second to enjoy the warmth. The library has been an escape for him since he’d moved to London after uni. After the place where he had worked, the Magnus Institute, burned down a few months ago, he found himself coming here more and more often. It was quiet and allowed him to do his research without being disrupted.

He pulls his jacket off and tries to drape it over an arm. It, somehow, gets stuck on the strap of his bag. Struggling to get his jacket free, he doesn’t pay attention to where he’s going and collides right into someone. Their books go tumbling to the ground. Jon almost follows them to the floor, but the man catches his arm. He has half a mind to snap at the man for not watching where he’s going before realizing the hypocrisy of that statement. Instead, he shuts his mouth and bends down to help pick up his books. 

Jon can’t help but notice what the man is checking out. A book about theories of the subconscious and more than one about the strange apocalyptic dreams that haunt most of the world. 

He pushes the books towards the man and freezes as he finally gets a glimpse of his face. He’s familiar, unmistakably so. And he’s looking at Jon with the same confusion. Jon feels his face heat up from the stare. He’s not used to people looking at him so directly. He shakes his head to snap himself from the stupor. 

“I’m- I’m sorry,” they stammer at the same time. The man chuckles awkwardly and Jon’s breath hitches. Something warm blooms in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt since- well, Georgie. 

“Ah sorry about that.” The man stuffs the books back into his bag. “I really wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” He smiles at Jon and- God, why is he so familiar?

“It’s-” He clears his throat. “Well, neither was I.”

“Do I-” the man frowns and zips up his bag. The zipper gets stuck because of the amount of books stuffed into it. He huffs. “Never mind. It’s a stupid question.” 

Jon reaches over and yanks the zipper closed. “If you were going to ask if you knew me, it’s really not a stupid question.”

“Well, if you’re wondering the same thing…” He scratches the back of his neck. “I’m Martin. Martin Blackwood.”

“Jonathan Sims. Pleasure to meet you.” He tries for warm, but it comes off as more gruff than he would like. He extends his hand for Martin to shake. When he grabs his hand, it feels… right. Their hands mold together like jigsaw pieces. If they stay holding hands for half a second longer than normal, Jon’s not going to admit it. 

“I was nice to meet you, Jonathan, but I should get going.” Martin’s face flushes red and Jon is pointedly not thinking about how adorable he looks flustered.

“Oh, uh, right.” Jon coughs. “It was nice to meet you too.” He side steps around Martin and frees his jacket from the latch on his bag. He lets his mind wander to the question of where he’d seen Martin before and the coincidence that he was checking out books about the dreams when that’s what he was here for as well. Jon was doing some research on the subject for the graduate degree he’d decided to get after losing his job and figured he’d spend the weekend doing some light reading.

Those things weren’t a coincidence, were they?. Because _that_ was where he’d seen Martin before. The dreams of traversing a nightmare filled wasteland with someone at his side. With _Martin_ at his side. 

He whips back around to ask him about it and sees that Martin must have had the same thought because he’s rushing towards him. Martin skids to a halt right in front of him. Jon suddenly doesn’t know what to say or how to say what he wants to say. He opens and closes his mouth a few times. “The- the dreams,” He settles on. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

Martin nods, the movement almost frantic. “Yeah. Yeah it is.” He sounds almost giddy at the very idea. 

The feeling must be contagious as Jon’s face breaks into a wide smile. It fades quickly as he has no idea where to go from here. He’d spent so long wondering who the literal man of his dreams was and now here he was in the middle of a library, face-to-face with him. “I, uh-”

“Would you like to go out sometime?” Martin blurts, cutting off his train of thought. “I know that’s probably a bit forward, but I’d really like to get to know you since you’ve literally been haunting my dreams for years.”

Jon rolls his eyes fondly. “I would love to.” Martin grins and Jon has the sudden realization that he would do anything to protect that smile. “Here, let me get your number.” He pulls out his embarrassingly old and cracked phone and extends it to him. If Martin notices or even cares about the state of his phone, he doesn’t show it. Just quickly taps his number into his contacts. 

Martin adjusts the bag on his shoulder. “As much as I’d love to chat now, I’ve really got to get going.”

“I’ll text you,” Jon promises. 

“Does that old thing even have texting?” Martin teases. 

“Hey!” 

“Just teasing,” Martin chuckles. “I can’t wait.”

Jon watches as he walks away, unable to ignore the warmth in his chest. He turns towards the nearest shelf in a futile attempt to hide his dopey smile, trying to ignore the bubbling insecurities trying to overtake the warmth. He wanders through the aisles for a while, searching for the books he wants. He’s able to hide his feelings at an acceptable level so he doesn’t look like a madman wandering through the library. 

Eventually, he finds the aisle he’d been looking for. There are a number of books and studies about the nightmares. They range in topics from the different ‘zones’ to the subconscious meaning of the dreams. It wasn’t unheard of for people who knew each other only from the dreams to meet in real life. Many people called it being soulmates. Jon called it a coincidence. But could he call it that anymore? After what he’d felt so strongly after laying eyes on Martin for the first time? Just another question to add the growing list. 

Jon wasn’t here for books on the zones or meanings, however. He was looking for what he called Travelers. Those who did not exist within a zone, but had the ability to wander through them. That’s where his dreams lay, but so far he had found very few accounts of others. 

He plucks a volume from the shelf to examine it closer. It’s one he hasn’t read before so it’s worth a shot. He drops it into his bag and keeps looking. He finds a few more he hasn’t seen or read yet and stows them away as well. None of them seem to have the information he wants, but something is better than nothing. 

“There you are!” A familiar voice calls from down the aisle. He looks over to see Sasha and Tim walking over. Oh, right. They’d made plans to meet here to discuss some of the research he was doing. Sasha was pretty much doing the same thing he was, but she was focused more on why only some people had the nightmares. And Tim… he was just along for the ride.

This wasn’t the first time he’d arrived at a meeting place and forgot he’d gone there to meet them. They were the first friends he had more or less ever and it was still new. “Hey,” he sheepishly waves. “I didn’t see you two so I started looking.”

“Oh come on. We know there’s more than that.” Tim loops an arm around his shoulders. “Who was the hunk you were talking to earlier?”

Jon sputters. They saw that? Christ. “I don’t have to disclose that information to you of all people.” 

Sasha wacks his arm playfully. “C’mon, Jon. You legally have to tell us. We saw him give you his number.”

He bites his lip. He knows he can trust them to not make a big deal out of this. Hopefully. Maybe he’ll get away with just some light teasing. He lets out a breath. “Fine. Fine. Let’s find a table. This isn’t actually too disconnected from our research.” He pretends not to see Tim make an over exaggerated wink at Sasha. The joy in his chest, rapidly becoming more familiar by the minute, grows once again. Maybe he could get used to this.


End file.
